


Returned Home Once More

by gearsandgrime



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay Male Character, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 17:59:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearsandgrime/pseuds/gearsandgrime
Summary: After months of silence, Jian Yi suddenly reappears in Zhan Zhengxi's life at his doorstep. What neither realize is that the feelings for each other they believe to be unrequited are stronger than ever.





	Returned Home Once More

 

Truth be told, Zhan Zhengxi wasn’t as livid as he appeared to be upon seeing his old friend Jian Yi, who suddenly popped in front of his doorstep. It all was so unexpected, Zhan wasn’t exactly sure what to say or do after he opened the door and saw him there. And in return for his hesitation, Jian Yi had taken the perfect opportunity to land a kiss right upon his lips. 

Nothing about it felt pleasant. Inside, Zhan Zhengxi was more mixed up than he had ever been before. It had been months. Months of silence. No texts, calls to check up how each of them were. Not even a glimpse of Jian Yi’s distinctive long hair, or tall, gangly frame from across the street. Then, Zhan opened the door and he was there, like some sort of miracle, and he wondered for a split second if he hadn’t yet woken up. The kiss happened, and it felt real and rushed and sporadic, and Zhan knew that everything was true. Nothing about it felt pleasant. Nothing felt charming or sweet. He only felt confused, sad, but somehow still thrilled. 

Just as he often acted before thinking what the consequences were, Zhan Zhengxi brought his fist up and swung at Jian. It connected cleanly, breaking off the sudden kiss. The boy went stumbling back out of the doorway, into the apartment hall. “Zhan Xi―” Jian Yi started to pout, the comical front only to protect what he was actually feeling at the punch. 

Zhan beat him to his words. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his breath seeming to leave him. A slow buzzing sensation was crawling onto his fist and lips and head. 

He was still outside, Zhan still indoors. The distance seemed much further than just a few feet. Jian Yi, looking at his friend, understanding faster than he once did as a careless teenager, dropped the act of playful moping. It changed everything, making his startled position much more raw and open. Zhan searched his eyes, just as Jian did at his, looking for what to say and how to do so, but each thought that came across his head blew away like powdery snow in the wind. Where he felt the buzzing was warm; everywhere else was degrees colder.

No words came from Jian Yi, his expression peculiar. He made no effort to come closer or move away. Simply, he stood, hands in his pockets. Zhan Zhengxi found himself also unable to move from where he was. “What are you doing here?” he demanded again, the only thing that he could seem to do with himself.

It had felt so long. Throughout middle and high school, Zhan Zhengxi watched his best friend struggle immensely. What was worse was that there was nothing he could do. Zhan  _ was _ the problem, and that hurt himself as well. It was a constant dull ache being around Jian Yi. It was a hammering pain after the night when rain poured just as quickly as Jian’s tears, all because of him. Time went on, and somehow everything brought them closer, despite the hurt he caused him all the while. Then one day in the summer, he was gone. Zhan had moved into his own place, and Jian Yi didn’t reach out. Carrying the guilt like a chain around his ankles, Zhan Zhengxi couldn’t bare to either. A cold veil formed between them, not by choice, but by weakness of heart, and Zhan let it happen, and instead let money, rent, and gaming occupy his thoughts and be his lonesome joy.  _ This is what I love _ , so many times had he thought with a bitterness that rested on his tongue.  _ This is what I love.  _

With a controlled grace, Jian Yi combed back part of his hair with his fingers, his eyes’ unease not matching the casual gesture. “I―” he started, and Zhan instantly recognized the tone, one he had heard many times after Jian’s heart felt broken and gone. Jian Yi cleared his throat in attempts to hide anything that just happened. The next time he spoke, his voice felt lower, more controlled. “I needed to see you. Zhan Xi Xi.”

_ I need to see you too _ , only rested in his subconscious mind, in memories and far away voices. A sparkler against blackness. A room painted in blues and grays, the only noise of fabric softly rustling, and sniffling alongside it. Sneakers clattering against pavement the cheery noise like wedding bells to his ears. Subtle touches of shoulders and fingers being next to one another, reassuring and empowering. And a laugh, delightful and clear, better than birds chirping in early morning or the sun setting deep below the skyscrapers. 

“Come in,” Zhan only said, moving to the side to let Jian Yi go through. They were roughly the same height, but Jian Yi looked smaller. Following after him, Zhan Zhengxi remembered how much of a mess everything was. Clothes were carelessly strewn around, dishes from days and sometimes weeks ago had a home on the table, floor, shelves, and couch, where Jian Yi went to take a seat. His pianist fingers found Zhan’s PsP. He said nothing as he did so, not looking around or up at Zhan. It was as if he were at home, completely comfortable. Without a worry. Zhan couldn’t find it in his heart to criticize or to ask him to not play. Instead, he went a few feet over, into the kitchen, and opened the small fridge. It was nearly bare, save for a family size bottle of tea, some vegetables and fruits, and a red sports drink that he had been saving for some time. “Do you want something to drink?” Zhan called. 

The apartment was quiet, not the stiff air it had been moments ago. Zhan suspected it wasn’t only him that had a dozen questions. His all lead to the same thing.  _ Will you not leave again?  _

“Yeah,” replied Jian Yi, still engrossed by Zhan’s game, which he was failing miserably at. “Whatever you have is fine, I won’t try to intrude too much.”

Without meaning to, Zhan’s eyebrow quirked. This was much unlike Jian Yi. Zhan snatched the red drink from the fridge and brought it behind the couch, dropping it onto Jian. “Here,” Zhan said, starting to feel somewhat normal himself. 

Jian Yi picked it up from off his chest and held it, staring at it with much more purpose than it actually held. “Thank you,” he said, taking off the lid with a gingerness foreign to him, as far as Zhan knew. The game seemed to be forgotten as he drank, taking a gander at the dingy place for the first time since walking in. 

Zhan Zhengxi stood, unable to think of the right words on what to say.  _ I needed to see you. Zhan Xi Xi. _

The breath that had been lost to him minutes ago returned in a steady exhale, and he clambered over the couch and next to Jian Yi, who still seemed transfixed with the room. Perhaps it was only seconds, but Zhan could feel years walk by as they sat there, him working feverishly to find the words on what to say and ask, his long-time friend looking as if he didn’t notice Zhan right next to him. Suddenly, he wished one of his blinds were open to let some light in. The darkness of the space seemed to chill everything, lengthening the distance that had already been put between them through time and measure. 

Though he was the closest friend he had ever known, it took the courage of lions to turn his head to look at Jian Yi. His hair was loosely controlled, some strands going backwards, and others falling straight down in front of his ears. Zhan recalled the one night, so close to the time when they disappeared from one another, his fingers gliding through the thin but attractive locks. Soon after he was gone, he stayed sitting for hours, a cold sweat on him, wondering over and over:  _ What is going on? What is going on?  _

“Jian Yi . . .”

It was the other’s turn to cut in. “I feel like it’s been forever,” started Jian Yi, his eyes ahead, as if he were talking to the table in front of him. Zhan couldn’t seem to tear his own stare away. “Why did we even . . ?”

He was silent. Zhan still, so miserably, couldn’t open his mouth. His heart felt buried in him. Jian’s was on his tongue, and he wished his were the same. Instead, all he could do was look fixedly, hoping Jian Yi might find a way to look back also. Perhaps, if he did, there’d be a way to let out everything causing chaos in his head to be heard, where his lips failed. 

Part of him itched to hold his game, so that his fingers could twitch and release the tension building up in him. They only could rub thoughtfully on his forearm, unconsciously tracing that which he wanted to say and yell out loud enough to be heard not by just Jian’s ears, but his heart and mind.  _ Will you not leave again? _

Had it been heard? Jian Yi’s head turned, his brows furrowed in a way as if he had caught the sound of Zhan speaking that and millions more. And he was  _ seeing  _ him, not just looking at Zhan, but seeing something that only he could see, and not by anyone else. “Do you hate me, Xi?” he asked, voice faint, yet enough to knock the wind from Zhan.  

Zhan was witnessing his heart shatter once again. 

Once more, how pitiful he felt! Only when push came to shove did he find the stir within him to go to action. When he needed to move he would overthink, only to end up needing to think before doing. 

Zhan twisted to face Jian, bringing one knee onto the couch. Before Jian could begin to react, two hands cupped his face, underneath his jaw by his ears, lifting his chin so it did not look to his lonely friend of the ground. 

“How could you say that?” Zhan Xi exclaimed, his voice becoming a low growl. 

“Zhan Xi . . .” moaned Jian Yi, his brows furrowing deeper. He grasped at Zhan’s wrists, an anchor. “I―” 

For a moment it seemed he was drawing closer, trying to hold on to the gesture that seemed almost aggressive by Zhan’s nature. He couldn’t help it; acting quickly ensured he had time before it was too late. It was too late. Jian Yi instead threw the hands off of him with a frantic grunt, standing up and turning his head slightly away from Zhan. “Months have passed.”

His arms were still extended, and they fell feebly back down. “Yeah,” he agreed, eyes lowering. Something was severed in that time, something holding them back from being truly comfortable. The few minutes in which all seemed normal had been nothing but an act for both of them. Inwardly, Zhan Xi cursed. So desperate had he been to believe it, he did, and had fallen terribly in the few minutes it took to bring him back to a sore reality. “You didn’t call me.” The phrase wasn’t intended to be accusatory as he said it. It was the only way to express the malaise upon him. 

“Neither did you. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

“The same goes for me.”

“Why?” Jian Yi asked, turning fully to him. What Zhan had said seemed to cause him more pain than the hands around his cheeks. “Everything I did. And what I said. It never had the same meaning to you.”

Slowly, Zhan Zhengxi blinked. Reopening, he was looking to the left, away. Through the years, he had been cruel because he couldn’t do anything about it. As it crawled closer to the final days before all would be lost, he questioned himself more and more, harder and harder. Something in him was different. Just as everything became clearer, it all went away without warning. Nights were spent, at first, only thinking of him, going to bed in his street clothes, eyes still wide open, remembering only his face. 

Even one evening, as he watched the sun sink into the horizon off of his terrace, he could only recall him. Up on the mountain, as sparks flew into the heavens like tiny angels, seeing only a warm glow framing his face, soft and mildly taken aback at the surprise. As the baked orange color blended into a destitute gray-black, tears feather-light flaked onto his cheek, rolling down slower than honey. They dripped down onto the street below, never to be seen, just as he knew in his heart he may never see Jian Yi for quite some time. Even if he did, he’d possibly never be allowed to look at him in such a way again. 

“No.” It came out in a whisper. “Just as you left, I knew something, Jian Yi.” 

“That this whole time, your time was being wasted by me? That I hung around you only because I am a selfish person? You know that, don’t you? I do this, I came here, because I know for a few minutes I’ll feel better before I have to go.” Jian Yi’s sudden outburst caught Zhan off guard. It was as if he didn’t want him to speak. It looked to be so. Where his voice was strong, his eyes, often playful and joyous, were fearful, afraid of the one sitting. The corners were bloodshot and red from sleepless nights and rough days. 

Zhan stood up, being cautious of how close he was, in fear of upsetting his friend more. His mouth opened, ready to speak, but Jian Yi cut him off once more. “I came here today for that reason, since you wanted to know. It’s been so long, yet I can’t―”

If he didn’t say something soon, something that would pacify him, he’d leave, heart heavy and broken. “ _ Jian Yi! _ ” yelled Zhan. Jian Yi indeed responded, his lips shutting, eyes only gazing with an unspoken horror. The rain was not there, but Zhan could see it all over again, feel the cold sweat forming in his shirt, the beating of his heart that threatened to burst from his chest and kill him. The white noise that surrounded his ears as they tried to speak above it to be heard was practically audible. “How could I hate you?”

“Because,” he said, not skipping a beat. The next sentence became difficult for him, just as any strong emotion couldn’t be controlled with him, and he brought his hand to his mouth, stifling a pathetic whimper. “It’s disgusting.”

Lungs seeming to slow their inhale and exhale, Zhan Zhengxi breathed in deeply, his sigh almost louder than his voice. “What is?” he asked, already having an idea of the answer. It was crucial Jian Yi spelled it out, if anything were to be resolved. Words always fell short for Zhan. He needed an action to inspire him to help. He inched closer to Jian Yi, floorboards creaking slightly under his feet.

Another hand went to Jian Yi’s face, both now covering his eyes. Shoulders did not shake, his body did not crumple. He was not crying. After a moment, his hands dragged down his face, wiping away the fears he held. His eyes still carried them, since the eyes could never lie, and Zhan came forward more. “Because,” Jian Yi said, quickly, recklessly, “I came all this way for you.” While he mustered up his strength and courage to say what he did, Zhan Zhengxi had continued coming closer, and when Jian Yi finished, they were only a foot apart. Mystified, Jian Yi stepped even closer, their eyes standing at the same level, and just as he did at the door, rushed to him and planted a kiss upon his mouth. 

Nothing about it was unpleasant. Just as the first time, it was unexpected and done without thinking, but Zhan did not try to push away or refuse. In fact, there was little he could make himself do. Like a ragdoll, his arms hung at his sides, limp. At first, the kiss was all Jian Yi, wanting everything but expecting nothing. Zhan then stirred, realizing he had to move, to say something in a way that didn’t require words, which he was so poor with, worse than his closest friend. He moved his head in, his own lips kissing back, sweetly, hesitantly. 

Jian Yi kissed hard, putting everything he had into the kiss. Seconds had gone by, but he still seemed afraid of rejection. His lips were chapped and dry, as they always had been. Even so, countless times had Zhan thought of them, only seen them when they chatted with each other. They tasted lightly of the sports drink he had taken a sip of.

Now that he had regained some control, he moved his hands, bringing them back up to where they originally were, cupping Jian Yi’s face with a tenderness he didn’t realize he himself had for someone. Something felt so right, so kinetic, that it justified everything that had ever happened between them, and every time he thought about him. If it had all been for this moment he was in, it was worth every second of heartache.

Just as Zhan felt himself wanting to deepen the kiss, Jian Yi broke away, running his tongue along the inside corners of his lips, looking wistful, as if he’d never taste him again. Their faces were only centimeters apart, lips still almost touching. Their microscopic distance was only momentary before Jian Yi was falling forward onto him, clutching the back of Zhan’s head, feet going between his. 

“Zhan Xi . . .” he breathed, the air tickling at Zhan’s ear. His arms instinctively went around Jian, not wanting to ever let go. It had been so long. It had been too long. The smell of his jacket Zhan breathed in holding him there was so familiar to him. It was a scent he had not come across in forever, but not forgotten. Nothing in the world compared. 

For what felt like hours and days, they stood there in the middle of the room, silent as the dawn, and just as content. Only the other’s steady breaths were audible, calming like the ocean waves as they returned to shore, back to a place of familiarity. Something heavy seemed to weigh down Zhan Zhengxi, and he clutched harder at Jian Yi, his hands rubbing along his back. He did so, and realized, that it was Jian Yi who weighed on him. Sparing a few seconds of tranquility to open his eyes and move his head onto his shoulder to look, the boy’s knees were almost knocking with how much they were shaking. 

The grasp on the back of Zhan’s head moved steadily down to the nape of his neck, one hand still placed serenely in his hair. Jian Yi was trying to hold on for longer, sensing they might break apart, despite the fact he was unbalanced. 

“Jian Yi,” grunted Zhan Zhengxi, bringing up his head. Looking at him, his eyes were beginning to redden. “Sit down, you’re about to fall.”

Wordlessly, he complied, breaking away from Zhan. Momentarily, Zhan felt empty, like a piece of him had been torn away. Still observing Jian Yi, his face told the same story. For a second, he looked as if he’d try to go back to Zhan, his expression so tormented. Instead, he went and laid himself down on the couch, hand under his cheek, gazing around morosely. On his couch, laying down in the afternoon seeming so casual, all seemed so right. Again, the burning question came to him:  _ Will you not leave again? _

Without another thought, Zhan crouched down in front of Jian Yi, who locked eyes with him like he was a shooting star in the endless sky. Zhan hoped he appeared the same looking at Jian Yi. His chest felt overflowing, light and yearning. He couldn’t seem to be close enough. Even being at eye-level with him, he inched closer still so that their noses had almost no space between them, their breaths intermingling and becoming one. A roaring was in his ears, the heartbeat in his chest echoing through him like a storm. “Will you stay?” Zhan asked. His voice was low in his throat, so quiet it was almost inaudible. The question he just asked he wasn’t sure of the meaning: if he meant a day or a month or a lifetime. Perhaps all of them at once. 

Jian Yi seemed to understand, for his eyes sparked, bringing back life into the Jian Yi that Zhan Zhengxi knew and came to love. His arms reached out without warning, grasping at Zhan’s shoulders and pulling on them, beckoning him to join him. Zhan felt himself, almost without control, prop himself onto the couch, only room for both of them when they were on their sides. 

It wasn’t enough for Jian Yi, whose arms graced around Zhan, pulling him in against his chest. Zhan breathed in, closing his eyes, taking in the scent of Jian Yi―citrus smelling cologne and sweetness. It felt as if he would drown. Zhan was okay with it, and he grasped at Jian Yi’s shoulder. Their feet tangled like vines. 

“Jian Yi.” His name exhaled from him, as natural as any other breath he might exhale. Responsively, Jian’s breath flowed past his ear, warm and comforting. 

“Zhan Xi Xi,” sighed Jian Yi, causing Zhan to hold on tighter, beckoning them to stay as they were, even if the sun completely sank into the earth and rose again for the next day. He could feel the smile crawl onto his face, and sense the same with Jian Yi. 

Fingers ran across his back, the touch inviting and needed after months of misery. Months of darkness and hope-surrendering. He had been so stupid, and such a coward. Despite it, the wait had been worthwhile with everything that he felt, with the heat from Jian radiating to him, his scent so close and touch so intimate. Not with anyone else was he so open to contact or sentimental gestures. 

Jian Yi exhaled deeply once more, the slight whisper of Zhan Zhengxi’s name audible. 

Zhan squeezed his eyes shut even harder, face buried in Jian Yi’s chest.  _ This is what I love,  _ he thought to himself with a pleasure bursting his chest, lighting fireworks in his head, a buzzing gladness running from his toes to his quenched lips.  _ This is who I love _ . 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I truly mean it. I don't write fanfictions often, so they are unfamiliar territory for me. With the update of 19 Days on July 20th, I think this fic is rather suiting. I hope you enjoyed it. I hope to write better soon! 
> 
> Songs I listened to while writing:
> 
> \- Rain on Me - Joji  
> \- Distance - with u'  
> \- Scared - Acid Rosy  
> \- Epiphany Fields - Oxenfree soundtrack  
> \- Vibes - The Deli


End file.
